8. Paige
Chapter 8
Paige
I wake to the sounds of pots and pans being moved around in the kitchen. An unnerving feeling being as I live alone in this house. But then I remember something about Bran saying he was coming back. I wonder how long he’s been here and what he’s doing in my kitchen. Memories of him from just a couple hours ago play back through my head.
“What’s going on? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Fuck. You scared the hell out of me.”
The panicked sound of his voice.
His sincere concern for me.
The way he stepped in and helped me without giving it another thought.
“Just relax. I’ve got you.”
He was so sweet.
Which is weird because up until this afternoon, I assumed he found me irritating and well, a nuisance. But the way he so tenderly took over and tried to ease my pain…maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe there’s a nice guy in there somewhere. Either that or I’m about to walk into the kitchen to be slaughtered by a murderous raging goat farmer.
I’m going to assume I’m safe to take the chance.
Climbing off the bed after a much-needed nap, I drink the rest of the water sitting on my nightstand, use the restroom, and then make sure I look relatively presentable before stepping out of the bedroom to find out what he’s up to.
“What on Earth is all of this?” I ask, eyes widening.
Bran’s head snaps up from the stove and he gazes at me, swallowing and clearing his throat before he tries to explain, “Uh, I stopped at The Whippoorwill. Picked up a few things for you.”
“I see that.” I bite my lip to keep from smiling too hard at all of the things lying in front of me. Stacked on the counter are many different packages of maxi pads, tampons, and panty liners along with at least six different candy bars, a bag of Hershey Kisses, chocolate chip cookies, two boxes of brownie mix, a carton of eggs, oil, a bag of pretzels, and a container of Duncan Hines chocolate icing. On the chair next to the counter is a brand-new heating pad and blue fluffy blanket with bananas all over it.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice Bran rubbing the back of his neck as he fidgets where he’s standing.
Is this a nervous goat daddy?
I hold in my snort of laughter to save face because this is all so sweet and I don’t want to make him feel like I don’t appreciate it. “You did all this? For me?”
His eyes brighten when he doesn’t hear me laughing at his efforts and he nods. “Sorry, I didn’t know what kind you used so I picked a bunch,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “If they’re not the right ones I can?—”
“It’s perfect, Bran.” I make sure to look him in the eye and give him a sincere smile. “Thank you. This was so kind of you.”
“How are you feeling?” His bright blue eyes never leave mine.
“Better for now. I’m so sorry you had to see me like that. I?—”
“Don’t apologize. I didn’t mind. You scared me is all.”
“Yeah. Cramps get the better of me sometimes.”
“Cramps?” he asks, horrified. “They’re that bad?”
I nod sadly. “Worse than I ever imagined.”
“Isn’t there, like, a pill for that or something?”
I smile at his awkwardness. “Something like that. Yeah. You would think. I have an IUD, which I wouldn’t expect you to know about, but the kind I have makes everything worse.”
“So why not have it removed?” he asks confidently, which leads me to believe he knows exactly what I’m talking about and now I’m wondering how Bran knows what an IUD is and how they work.
“Because my doctor said I should wait at least six months to see if it sort of evens out and becomes okay for me.”
“Not my business. It’s your body.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “But if something caused me that much pain…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but I get what he’s saying. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should find a doctor here in town and just be done with it.
An awkward silence falls between us for a moment and then I remember what I was thinking earlier, when he showed up at the shop. “Bran, how did you know I was there?”
“Huh?”
“On the floor. How did you know I was there?”
His cheeks redden. “I was coming over to thank you for the cookies. Saw your display. It’s really good by the way.”
“Thank you.”
He nods. “And then I saw your foot and then the rest of you and…” His voice fades and he clears his throat. “I thought…” He swallows again. “I thought maybe…”
That worried line appears across his forehead and that says everything he hasn’t said out loud.
“Yeah, I can see how that might look concerning,” I finish his sentence, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “I’m really sorry.”
“You were in pain. I’m just glad I found you. Glad I could get you home.”
“For what it’s worth, thank you for being there. I’m sorry I scared you but I’m also really glad it was you who found me.”
He stares at me, maybe not knowing quite what to say, and then he tilts his head. “You are?”
“Yeah.” I nod and then shrug my shoulders, my fingers feathering over the blue fluffy blanket on the chair in front of me. “I don’t really know too many people in town, you know?” I huff out a nervous chuckle. “I know our interactions haven’t been very umm,” I pinch my brows looking for the right word, “loquacious…” I peek at him just in time to see the corner of his mouth turn up. “But I guess I feel like I know you more than anyone else here so…”
Ugh why on earth am I being so damn shy around him?
This is absurd.
“Okay…” I shake off my weirdness and smile. “Enough awkwardness for one day. Sorry about that. I’m not usually like this. What’s cooking? It smells good.”
Bran turns back toward the stove and stirs the contents in the pot. “Homemade mac-n-cheese. Is that alright?”
“Alright?” My eyes bulge. “Are you kidding? It’s amazing! I love mac-n-cheese. It’s the best comfort food in the whole dang world. And you’re not even using powdered cheese?”
He laughs.
Like, he belly laughs.
Bran.
Winston’s hot dad.
Mr. Grumpy himself.
He laughs!
And it’s the most glorious sound.
Also, I probably shouldn’t be thinking about how the sound of his laugh makes me weak in the knees, but yowzah!
His voice…his laugh…it’s like butter.
“No powdered cheese here, Pidge. Only the best for the crampy girl.”
“Aww a guy after my own heart. I can’t wait.”
I put a few of the things away that Bran brought back from the store while he finishes the mac-n-cheese. Once it’s done, he spoons some into a bowl and hands one to me taking another one for himself. I plop down on the loveseat, making myself comfortable, and Bran follows close behind. It shouldn’t be weird at all that he’s sitting next to me, our knees touching as he takes up more space than me, but for some reason it is. I would never have expected him to want to sit next to me when there are two other large chairs in the living room. Not that I mind. He smells good. Like citrus and the outdoors all blended into one. He makes me feel comfortable and safe and I kind of like having him here. It’s not so lonely. Dipping my fork into the cheesy goodness, I slip it into my mouth and moan at the amazing taste.
“Oh, my Lord, I could kiss you.”
Oh my God. I just said…
I said it right?
I told him I could kiss him?
I said those words?
Someone kill me now.
He stops moving and gazes at me, his eyes falling to my lips before coming back to me.
Holy shit!
He just looked at my lips!
I saw where those eyes went!
He’s actually thinking about it!
Oh, my God what did I just do?
“Uh…” I clear my throat. “I didn’t…you don’t…I mean…”
“Maybe later.”
Maybe later?
Does he actually mean he wants to kiss me?
Or is he just trying to be funny?
Did I miss something?
Where is this coming from?
I thought he hated me!
Now he wants to kiss me?
I’m so confused.
“You didn’t tell me you could cook,” I say trying to change the subject.
His shrug is nonchalant. “You didn’t ask.”
Holding my fork in my hand, I chew on the corner of my lip for a moment. “Does that mean you’ll answer any question I ask?”
His mouth turns up before he takes another bite. “Depends.”
“Hmm, alright. Challenge accepted.”
I slip another forkful of mac-n-cheese into my mouth, chewing my bite while I consider what to ask Winston’s hot dad.
“How about your favorite color?”
His eyes raise toward mine slowly, a brow lifting as if to say, Really? That’s what you’re going to ask me? He answers anyway. “Blue.”
“Favorite day of the week?”
“Monday.”
“What?” I scoff. “You’re insane. Nobody likes Monday.”
“You’re right. I’m kidding. I hate Monday. I like Thursdays and I like Sunday.”
“Thursday? Why not Friday?”
“Because Thursday holds the anticipation of Friday. Once you get to Friday there isn’t much to be excited about because you know Monday is coming soon enough. But Thursdays allow for time to be excited about the upcoming Friday.”
I bob my head, considering his answer. “Okay. That’s fair. How about your favorite meal?”
“This one,” he answers with a look in his eye I can’t decipher for the life of me. I honestly can’t tell if he’s saying this one meaning the actual food we’re eating or if he means this very meal right here in my living room.
With me.
A fluttery feeling shoots through my body causing me to shift in my seat. “Beeeecause you love mac-n-cheese too?”
His eyes drop down my body as he swallows and glances back at me. “Sure.”
I don’t think that’s what he means at all.
“Uh, favorite musical group?”
“Nickel Creek.”
My jaw drops and I gasp. “Oh my God! I love them too!”
“Wait, you know who Nickel Creek is?”
“Yes!” I squeal with a laugh. “My parents listened to them all the time so I kind of grew up with them in my late high school years. Amazing musicians.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
I take another bite of my food and open up a little more on the couch. “Okay let me think. How about, are you from Tuft Swallow originally?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Oh okay. Not what I expected. So, where are you from?”
“Willow Hills.”
“Never heard of it. Where’s that?”
“Few hours north.”
“Ah. That makes sense. I’m from Indigo Bay. Few hours south.”
He takes another bite silently. He’s not the easiest conversationalist, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy his company.
“What brought you to Tuft Swallow?”
“Just needed new scenery.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Ten years, three months.”
“That’s very specific.”
“Yep.”
“What’s the best thing about living here?”
“I like helping people.”
“With your work?”
He nods. “I like to know they’re safe behind the wheel.”
“That’s very noble of you.”
“Nah. Just my job.”
“So, if the best part of living in Tuft Swallow is helping people, what’s the worst part?”
He doesn’t answer this one right away. His eyes drop to what’s left of his mac-n-cheese and for some reason I feel like I’ve asked the wrong question.
“I’m sorry, Bran. I didn’t mean to?—”
“Lonely.”
That’s the only word he says and now I feel terrible that I brought it up.
He’s lonely?
I mean I suppose I can imagine that especially living all the way out here where there aren’t many other houses. We seem to be it for as far as the eye can see at least.
“No umm…” I sift through my bowl with my fork. “No girlfriend?”
He smirks. “Do you think I’d be sitting here with you if there was?”
“Oh, so you would’ve just been a dick and left me laying there at the shop?”
He chuckles. “Okay maybe not. I’m not that kind of guy.” He takes the last bite in his bowl. “Speaking of which…” He frowns and his voice turns soft and quiet. “Earlier you said I was grumpy and standoffish. Is that what you think or is that what everyone else thinks?”
“Who’s everyone else?”
Narrowing his eyes slightly he tilts his head. “I saw who you were eating lunch with the other day.”
“Callie and Ro?”
He nods. I can feel him watching me and when I finally make eye contact, his blue eyes pierce mine. They widen slightly as I look at him, his vulnerability coming through in his gaze.
“I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Bran,” I nearly whisper with a tingling in my chest. “And neither do they. I just assumed you thought I was a bit of a nuisance, you know? The new girl who shows up at your door one night with your goat. Someone who has interrupted the flow of your routine. You don’t always seem very…”
“I’m not like you, you mean?”
I cock my head. “Why does…why do you say that?”
He casts his head down so we’re not looking at each other but I see the corners of his lips turn up when he speaks. “You’re the sunshine where I’m clouds and rain, Pidge. You’re the smile and I’m the frown. You’re you and I’m just…me.” He finally lifts his head to glance at me again and when he does, it feels like he’s opened a window that allows me to see down deep into his soul.
Like he’s allowing me to see whatever pain is hidden deep inside him.
And now all I want to do is help him experience what it’s like to be happy.
All I want to do is take away his pain.
And by God, I think I really want to kiss him.
Yeah. I want to kiss Winston’s dad.
Like if I just leaned forward a little bit I could brush my lips against his and he could fold his arms around me and hold me against him with strength and tenderness. And I could bask in his comfort. And we could both feel good.
Bran swallows hard when his eyes drop to my lips again, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The tension crackles between us and I wonder if he’s thinking about it too. What it would be like to lean forward and kiss me.
Would he be soft and sweet?
Gentle and slow?
Or would he be rough and unforgiving?
Would he take what he wants?
Because if he did it right now…this very second, I would let him.
“Bran…” His name is a whisper from my lips as I feel myself leaning into him. My body acting of its own accord.
“Yeah, Pidge?” he whispers in front of me. His eyes focus on my mouth as I moisten my lips with the slip of my tongue.
He’s going to kiss me. I can feel it.
This is really happening.
I’m about to kiss Winston’s hot dad.
I take one last breath as our mouths inch closer together, anticipation blooming in my stomach. I lean slightly more, tilting my face toward his. My heart pulses faster and faster and then stops all together when he pulls away, his fork clinking against his bowl as he springs to his feet..
What the heck just happened?
He doesn’t want to kiss me?
Was I imaging that whole thing?
My mind flutters with anxiety, embarrassment washing over me, but I say the first thing that comes to mind in order to cover up the sheer feeling of mortification.
“Beer or liquor?”
“Huh?” He takes my bowl along with his to the kitchen sink.
“You heard me,” I tell him, wishing my cheeks weren’t as red as I know they are. “Beer or liquor?”
“Oh. Uh, beer.”
“Apples or oranges?”
“Apples.”
“Cats or dogs?”
“Goats.”
I chuckle at his answer. “Touche. Alright baseball or football?”
“Cornhole.”
My eyes narrow and I cock my head. “What did you say?”
“Cornhole.”
“Cornhole?”
“Yeah.”
“What the heck is corn…hole?”
Bran shuts the water off to the sink where he was washing our bowls and turns toward me. His jaw drops and his eyes bulge. “You don’t know what cornhole is?”
“Umm, no. Should I?”
“Wait.” He smooths a hand down his face, shaking his head in disbelief as he walks back out to the living room. “You’ve never played cornhole?”
“Well maybe I have and I just don’t remember it. How do you play?”
Jauntily he cocks his head. “No way. That’s not how it works.” He laughs. “Nobody forgets about cornhole.”
A laugh escapes my lips. “Okay, well now I truly don’t know if you’re pulling one over on me or not. Does this game really exist or are you making it up?”
The way he smiles at me, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing, makes me grin too. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Because you,” he says. “You’re so…”
I cringe at his words with narrowed eyes. “Uh oh. What’s Winston’s hot daddy going to say now? I’m so what?”
He chuckles. “Innocent?”
My brows raise. “Umm…iiiis cornhole a…dirty game?”
“Do you know what they say about Tuft Swallowers?” he asks, plopping back down on the couch next to me.
“Nope. What do they say?”
He gives me a knowing smirk and says, “One thing you have to know about Tuft Swallow is we go hard for cornhole.”